Life After Death

Cleopatra spent the rest of her life the way any immortal man-eater would. Eating, drinking and carrying about. She saw the rise and fall of empires. She saw the world.

I’ll spare you the gory details of her survival. But it is interesting to note that all her “meals” had been handsome young men. It is said that after her transformation, she never took a lover again. Instead she feasted on them.

But the centuries of feeding and meandering about brought her no real satisfaction, and she began to loath life itself. Unfortunately, once the gods have granted you immortality, no matter the means of doing so, there is supposed to be no way back.

So my mother did all she could, she carried on. I can’t really call it living, because living entails some sort of fulfillment to your life. Living requires love. And that had been forsaken centuries before.

For all those years, neither did I live. For like my mother, I was frozen in a state of perpetual unchanging. For all she knew, I was long dead. Long forgotten.

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